


Surrendered to Fade

by VintageLydia



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family, I'll add characters as I introduce them, Sibling Rivalry, getting your shit together, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageLydia/pseuds/VintageLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kerowen Trevelyan ran the trading caravans for her brother, Bann Gregory Treveylan, when it became obvious she had no desire to be a proper noble lady. She was looking forward to supplying the Conclave at the legendary Temple of Sacred Ashes because it meant being reunited with her sister, Knight-Captain Cena of the Ostwick circle, and her brother Ser Jonin stationed at Wycome. Her last memory was gossiping with her sister in her room before waking up with a piece of the Fade embedded in her hand and everyone else melted into stone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrendered to Fade

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise you this will be updated fast and often. I'm a slow writer. Thanks to those who gave me encouragement to post! It's largely unbetaed so if you see a glaring issue, let me know!

Kerowen slammed the door to her small cabin and didn't stomp more than two feet into the room before she let her daggers fly across the other side, one right after the other. They hit the wall above her bed, narrowly missing the ugly painting framed there. She wanted to shout, but minding the thin walls, it came out as a high pitched whine. She stalked to opposing wall and yanked her knives out, barely having the wherewithal to stop herself from letting them clatter mindlessly to the night stand. She glanced the blades over and frowned at the nick she saw in the tip of one. These were pot metal compared to the ones she left at the Temple. Her silverite blades were probably melted into the stone like everything, everyone, else on that Void forsaken mountain. Everyone but her.  
  
“Herald” they called her. Some Maker blessed prophet sent by Andraste herself. Not her older sister Cena, nor her younger brother Jonin. Templars both, invited to the Conclave to broker peace. She spat on the ground. Well peace they got at the cost of thousands of lives. Except for her. And she was supposed to be grateful?  
  
She slumped onto the bed and looked at her left hand. The Mark was just a dark green scar now that it was stabilized. Ironically, it saved her life, considering how close it came to killing her before. She knew if she didn't have the Mark that could knit back together the Veil Cassandra would've killed her before bringing her back to consciousness. Many people still wanted to see her dead. And frankly, she couldn't blame them. A catastrophic explosion, thousands dead, including the Most Holy Divine Justinia, any hope for peace shattering in an instant. And here is some woman falling bodily from the Fade with odd magic implanted into her hand connected to the same sort of magic that tore the Veil asunder in the first place.  
  
The most frustrating thing is they may be right. She has no memories of the Conclave. She barely remembers arriving to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Her last memory was with Cena giggling on one of the beds in their room about… something? No matter how many years passed, they reverted to teenaged girls whenever they got together alone, gossiping about their ridiculous family or handsome men. She couldn't imagine purposely killing her, but it's possible she was unknowingly used as some sort of trigger or tool.  
  
Varric was right. Making up literally anything would've been better than "I can't remember." Now people like Chancellor Roderick can fill in the blanks however they chose.  
  
That brought her mind back to the meeting she just left. She leaned her elbows onto her knees and stared down at her boots. She was a figurehead, now, for this Inquisition. Her job was to run around all of Southern Thedas to gather allies and spread the good word. It was discomforting. Cassandra made it clear that Divine Justinia prepared to start the Inquisition before the Conclave even began, including recruiting a military commander. She knew logically that troops would be needed to pacify both Templars and mages if the Conclave failed but the idea still made her uncomfortable. Right now the bulk of the fighting has cooled off because of the larger tragedy and the Inquisition has a higher purpose what with the Breach literally raining demons on their head and opening rifts across the continent, possible the world. The Chantry is scrambling with the death of the Divine, but for how long? The Inquisition's only claim of authority to fix this mess was, well, herself. Or at least her Mark. What would stop her from leaving, to go into hiding?  
  
She sat up and looked again at the jagged piece of the fade embedded into her palm and sighed. She knew why. Maker damn it all, she remembered the exhausted faces of the soldiers she passed on the way to the Breach. The dead bodies. Men and women far too young to be running again and again into battles they knew would kill them. Their compatriots littering the ground around them was proof of that. Even the Commander, leading the charge and rallying his troops, looked like hope was all but lost by the time she joined him in battle and closed the rift. She couldn't let them kill themselves trying and failing to do the task only she could do.  
  
*~*  
  
A rap at the door woke her up the next morning. She glanced at the window and slant of the sun told her she slept far too late. She groaned and buried herself under the covers again blocking the light. After she calmed down the evening previous she went to the tavern and convinced Flissa to let her take back a bottle of wine and some cheese, bread, and sausage to her cabin. She scarfed down the food but lingered over the wine as she wrote in her journal and read a few books she pilfered from the Chantry a couple days ago. They were fairly dry histories but the closest to adventure stories she could find. She was apparently more enthralled than she thought because she could barely remember kicking off her pants and crawling into bed. The pounding in her head told her the bottle was at least half empty and she idly wondered if she remembered to cork it or if she let it sour overnight. The door was rapped on again and she groaned at the pain shooting through her eyes.  
  
"My Lady Herald?" squeaked the elvhen servant's voiced as she stepped in the room. Kerowen tried fruitlessly to calm the poor girl down but everything she did seem to intimidate her more. She lifted herself off the bed and turned to lean on the headboard keeping her covers hiked up, mindful of her state of undress below her waist.  
  
"G'morning Caren. Dare I even ask what time it is?" She tried, she really did, to soften her voice but that definitely came out as a growl.  
  
Caren startled, nearly dropping her tray before quickly righting herself, "I am so sorry, Lady Herald, but it's midmorning! The Lady Seeker said to see if you were awake but I would never presume to actually wake you up! Please forgive me--"  
  
Kero raked her hands through her hair as she listened to the babbled apologies but finally interrupted her "No, no, no, you did fine. I should've been up ages ago. Don't worry about it." She cocked a grin at the girl, "Could you just put the tray on the desk?" Caren shakily did as she asked, shifting her apologies from waking her up at all to not divining she should've woken her up earlier. Kero waved her off but was too hungover to argue with the girl.  
  
After the door shut she swung out of bed and stumbled to the washbasin. She was worse off than she thought. Thankfully the water wasn't frozen over so she took the cloth folded next to the basin and scrubbed the essential bits before changing into her suede trews and plain cotton shirt. With breakfast came a short stack of papers she perused while chewing on the toasted bread and jam. Nothing terribly urgent but Cassandra wanted to see her when she had time. With that Kero felt a pang of guilt. She knew the Seeker wanted to get on the road to the Hinterlands today and here she was, lounging in bed half the day. She sighed as she sucked the last of the jam off her fingers and propped her small camp mirror on the desk. She pulled open a drawer and smiled as the stick of kohl clattered into the pot of lip stain. She originally felt foolish asking for the cosmetics but when she explained to Josephine that she fell out of the fade with nothing to her name but the clothes on her back (which also needed to be burned when all was said and done) she was more than happy to dip into her personal stores and let her have some of her spares. The lip stain was darker than what she was used to but it complimented her more than she expected. For good measure she rubbed some onto her cheekbones, too, and thickly lined her eyes in the kohl, smudging it up her eyelid. Kero knew her unmade face was almost forgettable but with a little cosmetics she was striking, contrasting with her light brown eyes. They also disguised her dark bags born from her overindulgence the night before.  
  
Finally feeling a bit more alive, if dehydrated, she plaited and pinned up her waist length hair. She grabbed her coat and looped her belt over it, sliding the daggers in the scabbards in the back. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the doorknob and pulled. She sauntered into the sunlight and turned to pass the gates out of the village and walked toward the training grounds. She scanned the recruits before briefly catching the eye of the Commander. He nodded in the direction of the training dummys where Cassandra was absolutely abusing one. Kero nodded her thanks to the Commander who turned back to his troops yelling orders and corrections. She swallowed and walked toward the Seeker. Maker but she must be pissed.  
  
"I trust you slept well," the Nevarran woman grunted between swings of her sword. Kero snorted.  
  
"If I did, I'd've been out here hours ago." She glared at Cassandra. A wasted gesture as the Seeker was pointedly ignoring her as she worked through her exercises. Kerowen felt guilty for sleeping in but until a week ago, Cassandra was her jailor. She believed she deserved at least some slack.  
  
Cassandra briefly stopped to look pointedly at Kero, "We have a council meeting in 30 minutes. I suggest you pack for the road in the meantime." She was tall, with short cropped black hair, dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a strong brow. To anyone else, at any other time, she'd be intimidating. But to Kerowen it was just a bunch of posturing.  
  
Kero smiled without letting it reach her eyes, "I'll be waiting for you at the door."  
  
She went back to the cabin and quickly threw together what little she scavenged since waking up in Haven. Her personal effects were easy as she had nearly no clothes and the bare necessities for toiletries, including her cosmetics. She was given some basic camping gear so she grabbed her tent and bedroll. She unfurled the latter and laid every blanket she could justify in it before rolling it back up and lashed the tent to it. Cooking supplies and basic provisions weren't her responsibility but she did grab the half bottle (she did manage to cork it tight the night before) and considered nestling it in her clothes. She thought better of it, not wanting to ruin the few clothes she did have with wine if the cork came loose, and attached it to the outside. Better to have it accidentally break than risk her clothes. She did throw a small wooden cup, bowl, and cutlery in the bag. She wasn't sure if they were going to be provided but they typically weren't when running caravans for her brother.  
  
Satisfied with her bundles, she left them just inside the door and walked up the hill toward the chantry-turned-command post. The stone building loomed over the rest of the village. She shuddered as she pushed through the large double doors remembering the harsh history of the place. Haven was a very old town isolated from civilization until the Hero of Fereldan found it a decade ago and discovered the dragon worshipping cult who lived here. There were rumors of human sacrifice and the Hero, now Queen, of Fereldan, had to kill everyone when they attacked her, including children. If it weren't for it's proximity to the the most important relic of the Andrastian faith, it would've again faded in obscurity. Now that the Sacred Ashes of the prophet herself have long since gone missing and the Temple that housed it now a crater, Kerowen was sure Haven would eventually disappear, too. And good riddance. The blood may have been scrubbed from every surface in preparation for the Conclave but the place still made her nervous.  
  
The doors in the back of the chantry that led to the war room were still locked. Satisfied she beat not just Cassandra but the other three leaders of the Inquisition she leaned on the wall to wait. Before long the Commander made his way up to the door.  
  
"Herald," he nodded, his blond curls unfurling from his coif. "I see you survived the Seeker's ire." He unlocked the door and Kero slipped in behind him.  
  
"It's been a long time since I was scolded for waking up late," Kerowen said, "Truth be told, it's been a long time since I last slept in. It's... been a rough week."  
  
He was shuffling through his reports when the candlelight glinted off the symbol on his vambraces, the Sword of Mercy embossed on the metal. "Cullen, was it? That wouldn't be Ser Cullen of Kirkwall, The Knight-Captain?"  
  
Cullen stood straighter and looked Kerowen straight in the eye, "Is that a problem?"  
  
"No... I don't think so," Kero replied, "What we heard out of Kirkwall in Ostwick was mixed, to say the least. Cena said even the official reports were suspicious."  
  
"Cena?"  
  
"Knight-Captain at Ostwick. She's... She was my sister."  
  
"The Conclave." It was a statement.  
  
Kerowen nodded before turning toward the wall to hide the watering in her eyes. The door slammed open and Cassandra stomped through followed closely behind by Leliana, the spymaster, and Josephine, their ambassador.  
  
"So. You made it," she snapped.  
  
"Enough, Cassandra," Cullen said.  
  
Kero took a deep breath and shook her head to clear the last bit of emotion off her face. "So. What awaits us down the mountain?"  
  
Josephine consulted her clipboard. "As you know, our political position is tenuous. We must try to stabilize the regions nearby if we are to have any chance of getting help. Not just to close the main Breach, but to end the Mage/Templar conflict as peacefully as possible. The main fighting has stopped for now but who knows for how long."  
  
"And the Chantry still won't talk to us?"  
  
"No, however there is a Revered Mother in the Hinterlands who might," Leliana said. "She was a close associate of Most Holy. She knows Cassandra and me and I think we could convince her to talk to her colleagues on our behalf."  
  
"And while you are in the area," Cullen said, looking at Kerowen and Cassandra in turn before looking back down to his reports, "I'd like you to see if you can make contact with Horsemaster Dennet, previously of Redcliffe. He retired before the war started but his horses are still renowned in Southern Thedas. Unfortunately his ranch was isolated and cut off because of the fighting. He and his family may have fled, but if not, we could really use him."  
  
"And I assume I'm to also close any rifts we come across."  
  
"Of course, Herald," Cullen replied.  
  
"Right then. We'll saddle up the horses and have lunch on the road. We'll be there by late this evening," Kero said.  
  
"Be prepared to hear Varric complain about eating in the saddle," Cassandra said.  
  
"He'll complain if we eat on the way. You'll scowl if we don't. But he's less likely to slit my throat in my sleep tonight." Kerowen smirked at the taller woman.  
  
"Herald I..." Cassandra started but stopped herself. "I will get Solas. _You_ can get Varric. See you at the stables, Herald."  
  
Within the half hour the four were on the way. True to Cassandra's prediction, the dwarf grumbled most of the way, not just about the lunch but his back, or the badly fitting saddle, or the cold weather. Solas, in contrast, was mostly silent. The elvhen mage had an uncanny ability to predict where they'd find small rifts on their way, often before her Mark reacted to their proximity. Kerowen was curious about the apostate's training. His knowledge was at least as extensive as most Circle mages in most subjects, but his affinity for the Fade and the nature of the Veil was beyond anyone else she's ever known.  
  
An hour after sundown they spotted the Inquisition's forward encampment. The horses picked up their pace eager for their own dinner and rest. When they got to camp, they were greeted by a dwarf with red hair and freckles as soldiers took the horses and their luggage.  
  
"They'll take your things and set up your tent. I'm sure you'll want some food so we have some stew left we kept warm for you. I'm Lead Scout Harding, by the way. Herald, it's an honor to meet you."  
  
"Uh, thanks. Anything we need to know before we turn in?" Kero asked, though she was a bit thrown. An honor to meet her? She pushed that thought away and decided she might be seeing more of that wine bottle that night.  
  
"It's bad out there. Most of the Templars drew back to Maker knows where and the bulk of the mages are holed up at Redcliffe Castle, but there are rogue groups of both making the lives of the locals difficult, to put it mildly," Harding replied.  
  
"That's priority one, then, unless Cassandra thinks otherwise."  
  
"We need to find Mother Giselle but knowing her she is with the villagers in the worst of it. She probably will not help us until the rogue groups are taken care of anyway." The fatigue from the long ride killed the animosity between the two women. Harding took her leave and let them finish their meals. Varric crawled off to find his bed first and Kero wasn't far behind.  
  
In the privacy of her tent, she found her wine and dug out her cup and filled it to the brim. She opened her journal and stared down at the blank page. She thought about her day, including the conversation with Cullen about Kirkwall. And Cena. Every night since she woke up in the chantry basement she's either been ill or drunk. This night, alone, in the dark, and sober, she let escape a sob. Maker, she didn't dare hope Cena made it out of the Conclave alive. They hadn't met up with Jonin yet but she heard he was there, too. Before long the page in front of her was dotted with tears.  
  
"Herald, we need to talk." Cassandra said from outside the tent. Kero thought for a moment to pretend to be asleep, but instead took a long drink of her wine and invited her in.  
  
Cassandra pulled open the flap then sat down across from her. "It's come to my attention I've been less than kind," she sighed, then changed her tone to something more sympathetic. "Cullen told me about your sister. I, too, lost someone close to me at the Conclave. Other than Divine Justinia, that is." She looked down and started to fiddle with the corner of a blanket.  
  
"I'm sorry. Were they a Templar?"  
  
Cassandra smiled sadly, "No. A mage. Galen wasn't very powerful but people liked to listen to him. We were lover's once, but that was ended years ago." She sighed, "He tried to tell me how bad things were getting. I didn't want to believe him. I should've believed him."  
  
Kerowen, startled at this revelation, topped off her cup and handed it to Cassandra then took a swig from the bottle. "My sister was Knight-Captain at Ostwick. My brother was in Wycome but I heard he made it to the Conclave, too. I have another sister. She's a mage and I was a toddler when she was taken away. I have no idea where she is, but it's possible she was at the Conclave, too. Maker, that just leaves me and Gregory." She rambled out and started to cry silently again. She didn't bother hiding the tears. Cassandra might've been her jailer once, but she isn't now. "For what it's worth, I've been unkind to you, too, Seeker."  
  
"Please. Just Cassandra. _Varric_ calls me Seeker."  
  
Kerowen smiled, "You don't like Varric."  
  
"He annoys me." At Cassandra's deadpan reply Kerowen started to giggle, her tears still wet on her cheeks.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said after finally calming down, "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for being an ass. And I'm even sorry Varric is a thorn in your side."  
  
"I am, too. Sorry that is," Cassandra said. "It appears neither one of us was dealing with our grief. Let us start over in the morning."  
  
Kerowen nodded her head. Cassandra handed back her empty cup and took her leave. Kero crawled into her bedroll and closed her eyes to the world, finally feeling like a major burden was beginning to lift.

**Author's Note:**

> On a related note, if anyone would like to beta for me I would be forever grateful. I am a very new writer and this chapter is literally the longest thing I've ever written. I know there are a few passages that read a bit awkwardly and I don't know how to fix them.


End file.
